Bad Blood

A benefit to writing your own story is you get to be the hero if you want!  Which, of course, I do.  SuperC! Saving the day by changing the baby with one hand and sticking a bandaid on the preschooler with the other, while answering the gradeschooler's questions about why a / is used to denote fractions.  Tum-ta-da!

But every good hero has nemeses. One of mine, is Kidzbop.  

This diabolical entity is many things.  But in my life it takes the form of a Pandora station that plays all the crap pop songs you have never heard of because you are not a 12 year old girl, and then plays them in re-mixes performed by Alvin and the bleeping Chipmunks.  

I have Little One's Kindergarten teacher to thank for this monstrosity.  Apparently, she liked to play it in the afternoons and let the kids dance around to such educational gems as "all about that base".  The Disneyfied version.  She let Little One set it up, so Little One knows all about how to get Kidzbop on any device.  And She is. OBSESSED.  

It is all Kidzbop, all day.  Every. Day.  And so, SO loud.  

In my effort not to already be the curmudgeonly older generation (too much) I mostly try to just plaster on my haunted grin, and bear it.  Though sometimes it feels a little like the CIA is probably playing a joke on me, spying to see how long it will be until I crack under the torture.  

Sometimes I get into it and dance along. But really, guys, as a general thing?  

Chipmunks singing Katy Perry??? Why????

Every time I think I win a battle against this villain, playing something else, or hiding the iPad, it's little minions find a way to blast it again. 

Last month I arrived in Ethiopia, allllll the way across the world, in a place where there is no Pandora.  No Spotify.  No iAnything.  No Kidzbop! And what do I see. 

 I CAN'T ESCAPE!

Both Sisters are into this stuff.  

But at least I have my uncorrupted baby. 

Last night, I was washing Little Mister in the tub.  He started singing. 

Mr: "ya wa ga baaaah bod! ya wa ga baaaaah bod!"

He's so cute! Right?  So cute, all innocent and tiny, singing in His sweet little voice in the tub.  Singing His cute little made-up song.  

His sisters hear Him and start giggling.  A little too something, those giggles.  

They clap for Him and say, "Yes! Yes that's right!"

Then they start signing.  They start singing: "baby now we got bad blood you know we used to be bad love..."  

And I realized my sweet baby was singing some violent, angry, girl-drama Taylor Swift song.  

He learned Bad Blood before the ABCs.  I die.  

Kidzbop Strikes again.    

Bahama Mama

Where have we been?
Well, since we've been home for a whole month now, it was obviously time to pack up and take another trip!
For me, that is.  J is confined in the brig of residency and gets no days off.  So it had to be a solitary confinement last week, while I whisked the kids away on a family reunion cruise to the Bahamas!
Rough life, right?  
Now, try to follow me here.  This reunion was put together by my step-father's step-mother.  So...that's what? My dub-step-gramma?  The kids' step-great-step-gramma?  Whatever she is, she rocks.  This is the first family reunion without her husband (my step-dad's father), and he was missed by all of us.  But it's a wonderful tradition, and I don't take for granted that even with all the "steps" between us, she has never made me or mine feel like anything other than family, period.  This is further fortunate for me because she is an extremely fun, kind, smart lady who I look up to very much and love to be around.  Thank you doub-step!

There are distinct levels of maturity going on here...

Since it was a reunion, there were cousins, my sister and her fiancé, my parents;  a whole team of people to help me keep my Littles from drowning!  And, Peanuts, I used them all.  I have never in my life relied so much on so many other people to keep eyes on my progeny, but with all the water hazards, partying, and partiers, it was a good thing I had so much back up.

 Mister pretty much got passed around like a hot potato.  Cute one.  Teething one. But cute.

Thanks team!


The kids had an absolute blast getting to basically live in swimsuits.

Little One and even Little Miss went down the giant water slide

They played mini-golf, blew bubbles, played games, and went to real tea parties

 Tea Time!

Sweeties

Little One and GQ here played some life-sized chess! Missy rode the pony.  

Top Deck Wind!

They rocked it on the cruise when there was dancing- check out my babies getting low:

 

Little One lost Her second tooth (and by "lost" I mean She wrenched it out Herself) at sea, and we were all very curious to see whether there would be a tooth fairy so far from home.  It turns out that there was! We can't be sure whether it was an ocean fairy, or ship fairy, but in any case it left a rhinestone anchor necklace as treasure, and also an adorable half-lisp for Little One.

 

On one island, we took a glass-bottomed eco-tour of a lagoon and got to see lots of sea life, including a shark!

  

One of the highlights (for me) was getting to swim with dolphins.  Unexso is one of the only three open-ocean dolphin centers in the world. While dolphin captivity is controversial and I have mixed-to-negative feelings about it in general, I did some research on this particular organization ahead of time, and I was impressed by the facility, staff, and appearance of the dolphins. It made it possible to really enjoy the time these amazing fellow-creatures allowed us to spend in the water with them.  All the Littles got to play with them, pet them, and give and get a kiss!

 The Sisters were thrilled, and Little Mister even splashed and giggled when the dolphin came near.  The only part He didn't like?  When the dolphin gave ME a kiss.  
No worries, J! I may have left you to go on a tropical vacation, but your little Mister man is lookin' out.  Not even slimy sea mammals will sneak in a smooch on His watch.  Apparently, Little Mister was chaperoning me.  
We also had a little time to explore, and made friends with some parrots.
Not to mention spending long, peaceful hours in the sapphire waters of caribbean beaches.

Exactly what "Vacation" is supposed to look like

 I didn't get into the night-life aspect of cruising around.  I had three Littles to tuck into their cabin bunks!

But with no phone or internet access, those quiet evening hours were the most peaceful I've had in a long time.  I read books! I slept actual sleep! For consecutive hours.  One of my young cousins expressed pity for me at my having to retire so early, when the rest of the crew were up partying past one AM.  I could only laugh.
It wasn't my first cruise; it wasn't the first 1AM I've lived through.  Trust me, I know what I was missing.  And I didn't miss it at all! Chasing after three small crazy people with a can of spray-sunscreen, making sure no one eats too much sand, squealing with them over the slimy feel of a sea cucumber and digging through bananas and plastic mermaids in the bottomless beach bag for passports?  Actually, yes, that is my idea of fun.

Doing it with the help and company of a couple-dozen lovely family-members, plus some guy cleans my room twice a day? I'll take it!

Now.  For when I'm doing the laundry amassed during this trip.  For when school starts.  When it's February in DC and I'm to my knees in freezing mud-

Let's just hang on to that thought.  

Cut To Scene

I think it's so annoying, in movies, how there will be this one scene, and then suddenly the next scene makes no sense because there's a terrible discontinuity. But then the movie tries to get you to waive all that by flashing a little subtitle... "*Two Months Later*".
Lazy.  That's what it is guys.
But that's basically what this post is.  I want to share more about our Great American Road Trip! But for now lets just say that we left off somewhere in Indiana, and now:
*Two Months Later*
Here we are in Maryland.  Ta Da!
The scene begins in total and utter chaos, with me wondering about without even decent shoes on, looking a little like the survivor of a zombie apocalypse.  Moving piles of Things up and down stairs, and here and there, and drinking a little too much coffee.
Of the six we have made together, this was the roughest move we have had so far, for several reasons.  Add that to also trying to unpack and recover from a two month trip, and add that to the fact that J has started residency in earnest and now only exists in our scene as one of the aforementioned zombies, shuffling and groaning occasionally through the background, and what you get is overwhelmed.
Oh no, sorry, that's me.  I get overwhelmed.  I get overwhelmed and drink some more coffee.  (Because caffeine is great for raw nerves.)  What you get is nada, because who can type when the laptop is lost in a sea of ohmigoshwehavewaytoomuchSTUFF?!
Thankfully, the scene has a hero, and it is my mom.  My mom who is taking children to zoos all day, cooking, cleaning, painting walls, sewing curtains, and making some more coffee.  She understands me, Peanuts.  Thanks, mom.
Add mom to the fact that my kids are amazing and rolling with the punches (like how I rearrange their room every day), and J somehow in the little time before he turned into a zombie built a whole ton of stuff and bought food, to the fact that the neighbors are super nice, the neighborhood is cute, and we have already been welcomed in the most generous ways by good friends, and what you get is hope.  Ok, right, that's me again. But hope is good for all of us, Peanuts, amiright?
We're going to work it out.  As for the trip and some pictures and maybe something interesting (the last one might be too hard), let's just say...
*To Be Continued* 

My Birthday

I knowIknowIknow.
It's like I have no consideration for posting anything but birthday stuff.  Sorry, Peanuts. I get behind on Things.  On the eve of my not-so-young birthday I may as well admit- that's how it is.  It's how it's going to be.
I was probably meant to be a nurse, on so many levels.  I never was, but still- I triage.  Blogging things that probably only I care about doesn't often get to the top of the list.  Birthdays, though, well.  Those are sort of momentous.  I mean, if a person has a family blog, they can AT LEAST do the birthdays, amiright?
So.  This time, it's my birthday.
This birthday, I  have the exceptional gift in life to spend it with the person who gave it to me.  Mom.  Hi mom!
Tomorrow, Mom will be accompanying me on the last leg of this long, as yet un-blogged about journey. Because she rocks.
After I became a mother, I started sending my mother flowers on my birthday.  Because then, I finally Got It.  This year, the flowers would wilt in the car but I still want to say something to my mama on my birthday.
Mommy.
You did not always do everything right and make all the right decisions.  Nope.
Thank Goodness, because if you did how would you so totally understand when I come crying to you when I mess up? There are things you have done, or not done, that I have looked back on and given you and F for.  Being real.  Like there are things that I am doing already, and definitely will do when the Littles get older (this gig gets harder when they get big! Agh!), that I will be similarly graded on.
That is the thing about parenting, the thing about life.  You do the best you can; sometimes it works out better than other times.
But.
Looking back, here are the things I think you got totally right:
You found cigarettes in my room and instead of punishing me, left a note about how disappointed you were in my choice.  That was the end of that. Forever.
You told me I could go to any party any time, as long as I told you where I was and called if I needed a ride.  I did, and I recall a few times I left a rager (safely) in your blue minivan.  And lots of times my friends' moms thought we were "at a movie", while you alone knew the cross streets and what time I'd be home.
You let me read all the books I ever wanted.  And I loved learning because of it. Still do.
You worked at the school to afford me an early montessori education, which I credit with so much of my knowledge, personal development, happy memories, and love for nerdy science journals.
You took us out into nature.  Hiking, camping, skiing, biking, road-tripping.  You forced our tender little butts into the natural world, no matter how much we whined and sulked and protested.  And in so doing gave me some of my most treasured memories.
You drilled into my brain that girls can do Anything- and you lived up to that paradigm in every way.
You worked your still-hot-at-over-sixty patootie off to give me every advantage possible. Believe it or not, I take none of that for granted.
Most importantly?
You loved me unconditionally. Even when it wasn't easy.  Even when I didn't earn it.  I have not once in my life doubted that you would always be my biggest fan, and be there for me when the dust clears.  And you always, ALWAYS have been.  I don't take that for granted, either.
You taught me how to have fun. How to work hard.  How to embrace adventures.  How to have an open heart. How to look for the light ahead.  How to appreciate feminism, education, accomplishment.  How to appreciate being a mother, sticky hugs, splashing in puddles.
Tomorrow I will turn the same age you were when I was born.
Think of that!  Hard for me to imagine, with three Littles tugging at my hems.  In a lot of ways, I think you were younger at 32 than I am.  Maybe that's why you are still so young now- so young that people balk when you tell them your age.  At the same time, you raised me with a wisdom that I hope will become Little One, Missy, and Little Mister's lessons in life.
Be happy, be healthy, be strong.  Be who You Are.  Depend on YOU.  Find your own, unique, way in the world.  But, always, come home when you need some good lasagna and a hug.
On my birthday, I think of what it's like- trying hard, wanting desperately to do the Right Thing always and not always knowing what that is.  I remember what it's like bringing Life into the world- in a physical sense, in a philosophical sense.
I look back on a lot of flying and falling, stumbling and crawling, and I see the shadow of my mother's love beside me always.  All I can say is- thank you.
You made me and I'm not perfect. But I like being me.  You gave me life and it's not been perfect, but I love life.  You're my mother and I didn't choose you.  But I'm glad I got to be yours.
By the way. I love that you had me at 32.  It makes me feel, on this birthday that once seemed SO far away, that life is just beginning.  How fun that, once again, we get to begin it together.
Adventures await.

Inside Joke

On long driving days on this trip, we play games, do art, and enjoy the scenery in the morning.  But if we're still driving in the late afternoon (or if we did a hike early and then logged some miles after lunch), we let the Sisters watch a movie in the car.
We let them choose from a selection we brought along, and for some reason, they formed an obsession way back in Indiana and have chosen the SAME movie EVERY time.  Disney's "Cars".
The repeated viewing of this gem (They've probably watched it five or six times now) has ingrained it into their soft little brains in a way that is eerily impressive.  It's kind of cool (wow! How can they remember all that?!) and kind of disturbing (wow.  HOW can they remember all THAT?!).
We sort of wish we'd brought along a video of the theory of relativity or something instead.  They'd be applying to Harvard right now.  It has also given rise to the first notable existence of a new phenomena.
We were driving one day and the Littles were chattering.  Suddenly, they both hollered, "AND MY NAME IS NOT CHUCK!" and broke into insane peals of laughter.  J and I gave each other the "huh?" look, and turned to see what the heck.  We could see no signs of Chuck.
But it became a Thing.  One of them would randomly say, "Adios, Chuck." And the other would shout, "AND MY NAME IS NOT CHUCK!".  Crazy laughter.
After a while, and quite a few "huh" looks between me and J, I suddenly gasped.  "Ohmygosh!"
J did a double on his "huh?" look.  "What?" 
"I just realized.  They have this joke.  They have a joke, and they get it, and we are the un-cool parents and we DON'T get it.  We don't GET it, J.  It's their first inside joke!" 
J was quiet for a moment.  "It is."
It was!
After careful attention, and thanks to a five-year old who (thank you Lord, and let it last forever) can not keep a secret from Her parents for long, we realized they were repeating their favorite line from the movie.  Apparently that part is, like, reeeaaallllyyy funny.
Once we were clued in, it became the family inside joke. Now, any one of us is likely to suddenly say, "Adios, Chuck!"  leading to a chorus of "AND MY NAME IS NOT CHUCK! AHhhahaaahah!"
They also quote a ton of other lines from the movie.  including, most unfortunately, such gems as "what-a-heck?!" and (this one makes me freak out EVERY time for just a sec) "Ho-ly SHOOT!"
Thanks, Mater.  You've corrupted my innocent babies.  Now they say "holy shoot".  What-a-heck?!
Little Miss, also, has a thing for the "low-ridah" cars featured, likes to go around saying, "What UP? What Uuuupp?"  And even, upon seeing a sleeping person at my grandfather's nursing home, "Looks like we got ah-selves a NOd-dah!" 
Ok, see the movie if you don't get it.
Except for the holy shoot parts, it's pretty cute.  And, if you re-live it 5000234541 times, as we have, you will grow a special fondness for it.  Trust me.  You might even drive the country, looking out for cars that resemble the characters from the movie, and find random junkyards in Nowhere, New Mexico, really awesome because there are, like, 10 Maters and 14 Doc Hudsons in there.  Trust me.
At any rate, while I have heard each scene rehashed and dissected as nauseum, and while what-the-heck and holy-shoot are phrases I could live without a few years longer, I appreciate very much the fact that J and I were let in on the Sister's first inside joke.
There will be more- many more- and we will soon be left with our "huh" looks and nothing else.  As it should be.
But maybe, one day, when they are laughing at something that makes no sense to us, and they refuse to clue us in, J or I will holler at them- "Adios, Chuck!"  And, years having passed, the Sisters will give each other the "huh?" look, and J and I will laugh hysterically.

Crazy Fun

Hey all.
I didn't disappear, exactly.  I've just been outside the sticky reaches of the Web.
I have some stories, I have pictures.  But at the moment, in a middle-of-nowhere hotel, I have only a quick moment to say that we are all surviving the trip so far.
In fact, can we be honest? Yes, lets.  There has been a misadventure or two.  But, so far, the only casualty is the screen on my fancy-fancy camera, and while I mourn that (a little too much, probably), if it's the worst hit our camp takes, then good for us.
Otherwise, we have had a phenomenally great time on this trip.  I am all for routine and consistency at home, but it really amazes me how adaptable my kids can be.  They have taken the constant changes and rootlessness like seasoned travelers.
Every now and then we meet someone along the way and they say something about how hard/crazy/ambitious it is to take three Littles on such a long and amenity-lacking trip.  I sort of give them a blank look and just smile, because as they talk I'm wondering.  Hmm.  It's possible.  It is possible.  I might really, be actually crazy.  Because I have NO idea what they are talking about.
For me, this experience has combined the two things I love most about being alive on this earth; my family, and traveling.  While there has been a moment or two of overtired whining, a couple of misadventures, and a lot of carrying of things (and Little people), there hasn't been too much.
All together it has been fantastic.  Tramping through new places, seeing new things all together, getting outside.... this is my idea of fun.  So maybe we are crazy, but who cares?!  I'm happy to trade in some boring old sanity for this kind of crazy fun.

A Goose Chase Ending At A Farm

Waking up this morning, I had the feeling I was lifting the page in a long saga. 

It was a new chapter in the story Bernice has enriched my life with.  When she died, and all of her odds and ends fell into my hands, I didn’t know what to do with them.  I left them in their boxes, her scrawl fading on the masking-tape labels, stuffed in a closet for a long time.  Then one day, packing for a move, I poured myself a drink, sat down on the floor, and dove in.   It was almost all papers; address books, letters, church bulletins.  Stacks  of notes scratched out to herself in her final decade.  I read them all.  It was like a tragic chronicle of her decline.  The notes she wrote became increasingly desperate and despairing, and it was clear that she knew full well the abyss she was sliding into- financially, socially, and mentally, as her memory slipped away.   Not all of it was heartbreaking.  There were cassette tapes of her singing with her husband, a musician, and news clippings with him posed and smiling with hi ukulele.  And in her address book, there was a page labeled: “relatives”.  

It’s funny how alzheimers erases memories more or less in order, from the present back; like a tide flowing out to a grey and fathomless sea.  Bernice couldn’t remember the years she’d written those notes to herself.  She could only barely, on a good day, remember the husband she’d been so proud of and devoted to.  But she could remember her childhood- her parents and brothers, “our farm” that she’d grown up on- clearly, any day.  From the many stories she’d shared over years of lucid moments, I recognized some of the names on her list instantly.  The name of her older two brothers had notes dashed in at the corner of the entries- “died” and the year.  But her younger brother had no such note, and there he was, his address and phone number. 

I called.  I had been told that she had no family, none.  No living relatives at all.  And yet, when the phone was picked up, it was her brother.  He put his wife on, and we talked.  They were quite elderly and perhaps memory failures were a family affliction; I told them that Bernice had died, and was never sure if they understood what I was saying.  In the end, they were just confused and asked me to contact their daughter instead; they gave me her name. 

After some time on the internet, I found an address for her.  I sent a box of almost everything, and a letter.  In the letter, I explained that I had her original birth certificate, wedding certificate, and high school diploma.  Printed on vellum, bound in velvet or leather, in a time when such documents carried a reverence.  I thought they belonged with her family.  The niece wrote me back, just as I moved.  In the turmoil, the letter was lost.  By the time I found it, she had moved, too, and all the googling in the world brought me no closer to finding her again. 

But her letter had mentioned that her father, Bernice’s brother, had died and she was planning to take over the farm.  The same one Bernice had grown up on and told me stories about.  In Indiana. 

So, when we planned this trip, we marked out our route in such a way that we would pass through the town she’d grown up on.  And this morning, I took those documents, a picture of Bernice, and the crinkling page of her address book, and drive to the house number she’d listed under her brother’s name. I didn’t know what to expect.  I didn’t know whether I’d end up disappointed or whether something wonderful would happen; whether anyone lived there at all, whether this niece, who would be nearly 80 now, was even living.  But I knew I had to try. 

I left J and the kids to swim at the hotel pool and followed my GPS deep into rolling rows of seedling corn.  The morning was crisp and sunny when I pulled onto a dirt road and saw a pretty little white farm house nestled into a bend.  That was it. 

I pulled up and saw the sweetest, tidiest little farm.  The white house backed to a sturdy barn and a silo crept over with strands of ivy.  There was a little patio off to the side, and a garden patch, freshly weeded.  Redwinged blackbirds flitted from the lilacs and the sound of frogs and crickets rang from the fields all around. 

I walked up and knocked at the door.  I waited and held my breath.  I waited some more.  I knocked again, a little louder this time, just in case. 

I waited, to be honest, a little longer than a person who doesn’t want to be creepy ought to wait.  And finally, had to retreat down the porch steps.  I sent a message to J that no one had answered.  Next I meant to ask at the post office, to see if she still kept the PO box that was the return address on her letter those years ago. 

Just as I was leaving, he answered, “is there a mailbox?”

“Yes, but I can’t really know who lives here”

I didn’t want to leave these precious documents in some random person’s mail box. 

But that J, he’s always thinking for me when I’m too emotional to do it myself. 

“Is there a name on it?  People used to put names on their mailboxes”. 

I hadn’t even thought to check.  So I pulled over, and looked.  And there it was.  I wrote her a novel of a note, slid the items into the box, took a picture (I mean I’d been parked outside this house for 20 minutes, what’s a little more creepy at that point anyways), said a little prayer, and that was it. 

I so wish I’d met her.  Had a chance to talk to her, and ask about the farm, about Bernice before the tide of her mind went out.  But I still consider it a minor miracle that I was able to find this relative that supposedly didn’t exist.  I am thankful that Bernice’s last few treasures found their way back to where they began and belong. 

And for me,  it was really something to see the farm I had envisioned so often, to know that a hundred years ago, Bernice had played where I was standing.  It was like getting to step into those stories, into that mysteriously clouded mind, and see something even more clear than the memories.  It made me happy to see it looking so well.  Somehow, even though it may have been a bit anticlimactic, it felt like a good way to end the chapter.  Like a full circle had been made.  But in a way that was gentle.  Like her. 

Great American Road Trip- So Far

Today on our Great American Road Trip, we spent our morning exploring the small town where the Littles' Grandad grew up, and took our time meandering through the middle of America.  We took scenic drives in Kentucky, played at a park and checked out some memorials in rural Ohio, had an awesome lunch at a funky cafe in Cincinnati (even scoring a vegan chocolate cupcake for the Sisters), and saw some sights in Indianapolis.  The girls watched Cars on our way through Indiana, and we talked about races and race cars.  We had a picnic dinner at the edge of a wind farm and took a walk through a baby corn field.  It was a long time before we checked into a hotel and the kids hit the pool, but that's because we took our time, going out of the way if something seemed interesting and stopping whenever we felt like it. We took in some gorgeous sights, played paper dolls and read stories, chatted about all kinds of things and had fun being together.  It's a wonderful thing how flexible kids can be.  I'm all about structure and consistency at home, but I absolutely love the way my kids can adapt when they are out of their element, and enjoy the moment we are in.  Of course, we are just getting started.  But- so far, so fun!